


Visions

by tracy7307



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: The sand elongates and becomes low, constant. The sound of a fan. Everything is black. Billy realizes he’s in his own skin now – feels a softness of a bed under him and a soft sheet over his back. His cheek’s pressed to a pillow and he blinks. It’s fuzzy. There are plaid rectangles on the wall – hunter’s plaid, white background, shades of green. He blinks again.“Hey,” comes a voice. The voice takes shape and it’s Harrington, wearing that sailor’s uniform. Scoops, Billy thinks. “Hey doc, he’s coming around.”





	Visions

Billy sees rows of tulips – one half yellow, the other red. The rows strech on for _ages_.He walks down the small path and reaches out his hand – lets their petals bump against his fingers as he walks by. They’re open and soft, yellow anther vivid inside, and he hears the busy chirp of a robin in the distance.

Everything fades and then he _feels_ it. Rush after rush of air to the face and the sound of canvas beating against the wind. He opens his eyes and sees it – a dragon ascending over him, wings like thin, grey veinous membranes. It screeches and lands in front of him. Softly it nudges his hand with a cold, scaly nose. He touches it, running his hand over the skin. 

The nose fades under his hand and lands on the steering wheel of the Camaro. Hot to the touch but at a near-standstill – not traffic, a _cruise_. He’s at a car event with spectators on lawnchairs wearing visors lining the road, while muscle cars and classic cars line the right lane, showing off. Wanting to be admired – _seen_. The air coming in the window is blasting hot, smells of fumes and diesel, but he revvs his engine anyway and looks to the right and the crowd there _cheers_.

The sound morphs into a rumble of grains of sand rolling over each other – billions of particles of sand rustling, rumbling in the wind, then quieting. The eerie silence of a desert, of a tumbleweed blowing across the terrain. A Joshua tree stands silhouetted with dark, comically twisted limbs, spiked at the ends, against a sky both royal blue and sapphire. White stars dot the sky above. A gust of wind picks up and the sand rustles. 

The sand elongates and becomes low, constant. The sound of a fan. Everything is black. Billy realizes he’s in his own skin now – feels a softness of a bed under him and a soft sheet over his back. His cheek’s pressed to a pillow and he blinks. It’s fuzzy. There are plaid rectangles on the wall – hunter’s plaid, white background, shades of green. He blinks again. 

“Hey,” comes a voice. The voice takes shape and it’s Harrington, wearing that sailor’s uniform. _Scoops_ , Billy thinks. “Hey doc, he’s coming around.” 

There’s a dip in the bed next to him and a voice says, “He’s fine. Vitals look good. _You’ve been through quite an ordeal, buddy_ ,” the last part is louder, meant for Billy to hear. “You’re alive. That’s the good news.”

“The bad news,” Harrington says. His voice is closer. “Is that you’re at my house. Doc Owens thought it’d be safer for you to recover somewhere that interested paries might not look for you. Like. Yknow. _My place_.” 

Billy wants water. Feels the desert in his throat and reaches for the glass when it floats into his hand. Oh. He feels a warm tricke come down from his nose. 

“Yeah,” Dr. Owens says. “So here you are, and they’re none the wiser. Steve? Call me if anything changes.” The pressure next to him on the bed lifts, and there’s Harrington. Standing there with arms crossed. 

Billy holds out another hand. Feels like he’s been gargling with glass, but still manages to say, “Pretty boy.” 

Harrington places his hand in Billy’s. “Not goin anywhere, Hargrove. Right here with you.” 

Billy falls back to sleep with the feeling of Harrington’s fingers brushing his bangs from his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> [tracy7307](https://tracy7307.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
